Ruby Lies Within the Snowstorm
by Preussan
Summary: All the Soviet nations have become accustomed to life inside the Soviet Mansion, and Natalia is fairly pleased with how things go. Of course, until a certain Albino comes and ruins her pitiful existence in a world that she believed was as good as it got. Perhaps she'll realize that with him, things are different. (( Language, and probably darker themes. ))
1. Chapter 1

Every morning, the routine was the same: Get up, get dressed, comb your hair and teeth, clean the rooms, wash the windows, sweep the floors, and prepare breakfast. Before nine, of course, or else Ivan would come down stairs in a rage and smash the closest thing on the Baltics' heads. The family, however, had been growing accustomed to this ever since they formed the Soviet Union. Katyusha was the eldest: She received no punishment out of respect. Natalia was feared by all in the home: None harmed her, and if she was pushed against, it resulted poorly. The Baltics, though, were the beating toys of Russia, who often came home in a drunken stupor. Though, they all handled the situation well, by staying as happy as possible in front of one another, and leaving their sorrows behind until they could break into pieces in the confinement of their bedrooms.

Natalia was accustomed to this life, and refused to let anything change it. She was happy this way. (Not really happy, content would be a better word, for the girl had never experienced true happiness.) This morning was no different from the routine described above: All awoke early in the morning, took care of personal hygiene, and then separated to handle their own chores. Natalia, ever the lazy child, managed to retrieve Lithuania and switch chores with him: He cleaned the library and she cooked. As nine in the morning stammered about, all the Union members were clamoring to sit in their appropriate seats at the large, rectangular table, their plates in front of them and their drinks being poured. Natalia sat, fidgeting in her seat, waiting on Ivan to come down the steps and find something wrong with the house or the meal, or perhaps he was secretly planning their death now? They all sat in silence, staring at one another with looks of worry and annoyance, along with fear. Nothing was ever out of order here, and Ivan, the man who hated it to be so, was causing more chaos than he probably realized. As they sat, they refused to move, until at eleven, the door to the house creaked open, and a loud, childish booming voice shouted, "Privet, I am home! Everyone is awake, da?" All members of the family rose from their seats, and quickly made their way into the front room. Natalia, having dashed in front of the others, arrived and grabbed his sleeve, anger obvious on her face.

"Vanya! Where have you been? Breakfast will need to be thrown out! No one ate!" She roared, not fearing any rebound from her older brother. He smiled down at his sister, before patting her on the head.

"We have a new member of the family. You will go help with the bags, da?" He then walked to Ukraine without waiting for Belarus' answer. At this point, she thought being in the same room as her careless Vanya would be dangerous for the both of them, so she opened the door (Without a jacket or shoes) and stepped into the snow. She saw the old car and the trunk hoisted open, along with someone digging around. She growled, stomping over and pushing the person aside.

"Let me get it. You're taking too long." She sneered, before feeling the bags torn from her arms. She frowned, before grabbing them. She looked at whoever dare to take something from her, and grimaced. No wonder someone had had the guts to do something of the sort: She was dealing with a certain cocky albino German, namely Prussia, or Gilbert, if she was feeling friendly. Of course, she was never friendly.

Ever.

Natalia took the bags inside with Prussia in tow, the man not having said a single word to her since his arrival, which she found odd. She wasn't going to ask him to elaborate on his sudden ability to not make her want to stab him, though. As they walked, she was surprised to find that Lithuania was not following them, nor was Latvia. She gave an aggravated sigh of annoyance at the thought of Ravis and Toris constantly following the girl around the way they did. She opened the door to his room, which subsequently happened to be across the hall from her own, and walked inside, laying the bags on his bed. She turned around, watching him slip past her to set his armful of luggage onto the bed as well, before he turned to her.

"I will show you around the house. Then we shall assign your chores. All rise at six, every morning. All shower every morning. We eat at exactly nine, every morning, so be in your seat on the dot." She nodded her head; sure she'd told him everything he would need to know. She then turned to leave the room, closing the door as she swiftly walked downstairs.

Gilbert didn't speak much his first few days in the Soviet mansion. For some reason, Natalia became agitated and annoyed by this. He wasn't to begin chores for one week: Until he was accustomed to life in the house. He came out of his room for eating and bathing, or occasionally when Natalia and Katyusha dragged him out when Ivan wasn't home. They'd usually managed to get him to mumble thanks when serving him his coffee or when they threw him a throw-blanket that Natalia had knitted. (She was the one who actually made Ivan's scarf, too, but she forced Katyusha to give it to him. It never bothered her that everyone thought otherwise.) The one time he'd shown much emotion to them was the ghost of a smile, when he saw that his "name" was actual the Prussian flag, knitted into a small corner. As they sat on a storming night, the snow falling heavily, Natalia managed to get a word out of Prussia.

"Were you one of the men who invaded Belarus during the war?" She asked, filling his cup up for a third time with hot, steaming coffee. She then sat next to Katyusha and Eduard, who was playing on his laptop. She then looked up, not seeming as cold and cruel as she always did at meetings. He nodded his head slowly, before opening his mouth to elaborate.

"I was still part of Germany back then. When he went to war, so did I. I came to handle Belarus, while he went on to Russia. We had an encounter, but I don't think you'll remember."

He nodded his head, before looking at her with dull, tired eyes. Natalia furrowed her brow a bit, trying to remember the battles. She knew that in her memory there was a haze, something she could not remember, but it never occurred to her why.

"What happened to me?" She asked, her strong and cool exterior hiding her slightly terrified interior. The girl felt vunerable and weak.

"I shot you in the rib three times. You kept screaming at me, telling me I would parish at your brother's hands, that Ivan would come save you. I-" He stopped, before looking into the black darkness of the coffee. "I had to order someone to shut you up no matter what. Even though, after a few threats, the screams… Turned into nothing more than screams of pain. Which was worse than the threats." He looked up, shame washing over him in a wave of guilt. Natalia's eyes were focused on the dregs of her memory, her brain fighting to remember what he said. She looked up, seeing that Katyusha and Toris had horrified expressions on their faces: Katyusha's cup was clamoring against her saucer, her body shaking in horror at the thought of her precious baby sister having been put through that type of torture. Natalia put an icy hand on her sister's shoulder, before allowing her eye to tell her to calm herself.

"All is to be expected and accepted. It was an old war. I would have expected worse, in all honesty. I would have done worse, and we all know it." All sat in awe at her honesty, all but Prussia. He smirked at her, a spark in the ruby eyes coming back.

"Yeah? Think you can take me now little girl? Kesesese!" He laughed, mocking her for her small stature. Natalia grimaced.

"I can rip you apart,_ unawesome Prussian._" The moment the words were out of her mouth, Prussia jumped from his seat, dropping and breaking the glass of coffee that was on his lap. He marched over to her, grabbed her by the wrists, and pulled her from her seat.

"Make your move then, because that was so unawesome! Prove you can take the awesome em!"

Natalia growled; she grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and kicked in the back of his knees: He collapsed to the ground, with her standing over top of him.

"You were just taken. You're weak, Hilbiert. So yes, I do think I can take you." She snapped, before her head lifted, moments before she scrambled away from him. She pushed him aside, gathering the broken cup and running into the kitchen, then returning with a wet rag. She scrubbed the floor clean, and then pulled Katyusha from her seat.

"Go. He's coming up the driveway." She mumbled, grabbing the rest of the cups and saucers and throwing them into the sink without care. She grabbed the blankets, and began trying to usher the Baltics up the stairs. Gilbert watched her in confusion. "What are you doing, Belarus?" He stared at her, before she grabbed his arm and tried to pull him to the stairs. "We nbeed to all get to our rooms and lock the doors. Vanya is home, and-" She was cut off by the opening of a door, and the girl froze.

"Privet, everyone! I am home. You are all awake, da?" She heard a laughing voice call, sending chills up her frail spine. She turned, her icy and hostile atmosphere returning as she saw her brother open his arms to her. She looked slightly surprised until she smelled the vodka on his breath, and walked into his hug. "Ah, Natalia, you're so pretty tonight! Will you come sleep in my room~?" He sighed, his nose laying in her hair. She stiffened a bit, before turning herself into a cruel inage.

"Nyet, I will not. You never want me in there when you are sober, so I will not take advantage of you when drunk, Vanya." He thrust her away from his body as she spoke, looking at her in disgust.

She stepped away, turning towards Gilbert and picking up the blankets once again. She walked past him, and as their arms brushed, they exchanged a single look: her's of warning, and his of worry. Ivan saw that Gilbert had dared to look at his younger sister, and grabbed the man by the throat.

"You like my little sestra, da?" He asked, a sadistic smile covering his features. "Well, she's _mine_. And you _will not_ touch her!" He screamed, Throwing Gilbert into the wall before storming up the stairs to his bedroom. Gilbert hobbled to his feet, before staring after the man.

"W-what the Hell was that?" He choked, his ruby eyes widened in fear.

"Forgive me," Natalia began, her hand falling on the railing, "I forgot to tell you. Stay away from Ivan when he's drunk."


	2. Chapter 2

_ It's not like I'm unhappy here. It's not like I don't want to see her. But sometimes I wonder what's going on back home. Do you miss me? I miss you, bruder. But when she talks to me, I stop thinking. It's almost like Gott sent her my way to help me through all of this. Was findest du? And I know, in minutes, she'll be here to wake me up personally, like she's done every morning for the past month. It's pretty nice._

Gilbert sighed, stuffing the letter that would never be sent under his mattress. Natalia had given him the paper and pen. "It's always something I do when I need to vent all my emotions. Vanya only gives sestra and I the materials, but we give them out when he's not home." He slipped back into his bed, the rough white pajamas covering his toes as he walked. Every morning, at one, she would come to his room with her comforter, and lay it on him. He would move over on the tiny cot, she would lie under the blankets, and their body heat would be their only comfort. It was odd how they'd begun this ritual.

It was only a month ago, and he'd been in the house for nearly four. He'd been more open, and all though he wasn't as hyper and talkative as he had been before, he was still alive. Natalia often had to come and clean up his messes- She offered whenever there was a crash or a yelp from him- and he would feel terrible. The day was a bit of a haze to him, since the most he remembers is that they went to bed early. Katyusha had said that "If Ivan comes home to see us all again, things could end up even worse." So Natalia laid all their throw blankets onto their beds for them before any had gone to their rooms, and they had all curled into the comfortable freezing blankets. Gilbert was sitting in his room, staring out the large window, his breath fogging the glass. His eyes were focused on the falling snowflakes, and he only wished that he could catch on, and trace the stems of it. After all, all snowflakes are different. As he thought about the stems of the snowflakes and of their beauty, he heard the door of his room gently and softly creak open. He didn't care to look, though: Last time it had been Ivan, come to beat him, and Natalia had come to save him. Two hands fell upon his shoulders, the slight body heat from them seeping throw the cloth to his skin, making him shiver. "Hibliert.." The silky voice whispered in his ear, tearing him from his thoughts and dread. He turned, seeing Natalia in her pale white night gown. It was made of cotton, and hung to her knees. She had a robe over it, too. When he turned to look at her, it was obvious something was wrong, he could tell by her mannerisms. She looked meek and timid, rather than bold, and confident and strong. "Hey, Natalia. Something wrong?" He asked, laughing internally at how she shuffled her feet and looked at her hands which were clasped so gently in her lap that the shadow from them was long and dramatic. She looked up, a slight flush on her cheeks. "I have heard you often complain at night of how cold it is." She mumbled, before turning, a slender, frail arm outstretched to her open bedroom door across the hall. Gilbert looked at her for a moment, before understanding her proposition.

_That cold, heartless attitude was always just a façade, eh?_

He offered her the most genuine smile he could muster, as he was still deeply lonely without his brother, and he couldn't possibly pretend to be happy in this place. He gave a heavy sigh, before shaking his head. "Danke, but Ivan would kill me for going into your room again." (This is something we may perhaps dwell on later.) Natalia's brow furrowed in strict thought, her hand holding her chin as she shuffled from foot to foot. She then walked out, causing two crimson eyes to follow her, of which noted that even in the loose, straight gown, her rear-end was rather subtly formed, and in his mind he came to the conclusion that once she was no longer suffering from malnutrition, it'd be shapely and full and certainly worth grabbing. _I should go to Hell for that, _he thought. He was broken from his thoughts when she reentered, shutting his door behind her. She then covered his bed with her comforter, before taking his hand- ever so gently for a woman like her- and sat him down. He climbed under the two blankets, a new heat rising through his body, as if the furnace had actually been turned on, and saw her grab the comforters and begin to tuck him in. It was rather cute that she was taking so much care to be gentle with him, as if she expected him to fall apart if she dare to touch his flesh. After she had finished, she curled up, on top of the blankets, her feet and legs bare to the frozen air of the mansion. And, although it seemed as if she wasn't even aware of it, Gilbert very irritatedly pulled the blanks from him and from under her, before remaking the bed. When she turned to stare at him with hatred, he gave his signature grin. "I'm not letting you come in here to keep me warm and then freeze to death, kesesesese!" The girl sighed- Was she annoyed with him?- and turned over, facing him, her nose covered by the blankets. Every night afterwards, she'd come to lay with him.

As he dwelt on this subject, he hadn't at all found himself drifting to sleep any time soon. He heard his door creak open, and in the doorway stood a small Natalia, her pillow and blanket in her arms. She threw the blanket over the bed and crawled underneath it, cuddling into her pillow as per usual. The most interesting she did, though, was that she turned over, and poked Gilbert in the ribs. "Why aren't you asleep?" She asked monotonously, peering at his blood red blood shot eyes. He gave her a nervous smile before ruffling her hair. "I was writing. And got in bed once I was done." He gave his nervous laughter once again, as he wasn't always sure how she was feeling at any given moment. "You mean you're using the paper I gave you?" He nodded his head. He could have sworn, that in only milliseconds, that cold and heartless, that off-putting and emotionless Belarus, had given him a smile.

A genuine smile.

Natalia lay quietly, her eyes shut as she lay against the Prussian's back. She had stopped sneaking into Katyusha's bed when they were both very young, and she'd stopped sneaking into Ivan's only a century after she returned form Lithuania's care. She hadn't felt the need to sleep with another person, no matter how painful the aching in her chest got, no matter how much she cried silently from the pain of loneliness. She could always handle it, no matter what was sent her way. During WWII, when Prussia shot her, it was physically more painful than the pain in her heart. Yet, somehow, she was comforted when he told her what happened. He knew she existed and that even she had felt pain. If he knew she felt it physically, that she could feel anger, betrayal, and fear, then maybe he knew she could feel sadness, too. After a while, he began asking her about how she felt. She at first would shrug him off, telling him to mind his own business. Eventually, she warmed up to the idea of actually talking to him. Of course, this was after an incident before Ivan left.

On the snowy morning of which it all happened, Ivan was late in waking up. Belarus had cooked a good breakfast for them, since she was in one of her rare good moods. As they all sat in silence waiting on Ivan to come down the stairs, their stomachs grumbled and complained to them. Of course, after having worked hard that morning on the breakfast, Belarus was quite irritated at her brother. It was rare that anyone stood up to Russia, even Belarus, who took no disrespect from any person. Today was a special day: The first day Prussia would see a truly angry Natalia Arlovskaya. She stood from her chair, dusting off her apron before grabbing the knife in her napkin. All eyes watched her quietly, wondering what was going on, why Natalia was getting up, and why she had a butter knife. They all stood soon, hearing her footsteps clack clack up the stairs. She walked faster than the others, naturally, her long hair billowing behind her. Gilbert followed behind the pack, curious about their frantic breathing and murmurings. As they rounded a corner he had never gone by, heard something heavy hit the wall. Everyone jumped, and scuttled behind the corner, before hearing frantic screaming from inside the room.

"I am tired of you making this rigid schedule for us all to follow, and then being late yourself, brother!" Natalia shouted, throwing his bottle of vodka onto the floor. Her violet eyes locked onto his, which were angry and pained at her screaming. He threw back his chair, slamming his hands on the desk. "Then why don't you disobey my orders, sestra? Why don't you just leave? Since you hate it here so much!?" Gilbert was entirely shocked at them.

"Where am I supposed to go? You've _gained control_ of my country like a selfish coward! Are you really this self-centered that you refuse to let me, sestra, Hilbiert, and the others go?"

"It is not selfish, I am _taking care of you,_ you ungrateful child! Get out of my sight, you disgusting child! Go back to your damned room and cry in those pillows that I bought especially for you, and regret being my little sestra as I often do!"

Gilbert snapped out of his trance, having heard no more sound from the room. All of them stood, shocked and terrified, waiting for one of the two to leave the room. Time stood still, engulfing them in its frozen hands and holding them for eternity, for no person emerged.

Natalia slammed the door behind her, walking down the halls and past the others, her knuckles red and the sleeve of her dress torn. Katyusha jumped, tears welling in her blue eyes, before Gilbert laid a hand on her shoulder. "Let me talk to her, kesesesese~" He commented, before following the small girl to her room. Inside, she had a ratty old suitcase opened, filling it with the little possessions she owned in this home. He knocked on the door, but found himself ignored as she rushed about, dropping knives here and there as she did.

"Natalia, let's talk." He said, a slight smirk on his lips as he watched her grimacing, burning with hatred as she moved. "Nyet, just go away." She snapped, all though she stopped her packing, her shoulders hung and her hair touching the bed. Gilbert stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind him, before putting a hand on her lower back. She shivered, before her breathing calmed. Almost, as if by instinct, he pushed a lock of hair from her cheek behind her ear, the distant touch making her wince in pain. She had the slightest hint of a bruise on her cheek bone, where his hand traced gently. "He hit you?" She voiced no answer, but her head gave a hesitant nod. HE sighed- Something he rarely did- and turned her to face him, taking her face delicately between his hands. He brought her face up to his lips, before mumbling for her not to blink or move. His tongue flicked out, licking the blood from her eye, the girl's tear-stained eyelashes batting against his tongue. He let her face go, the girl not turning from him, nor taking her eyes from him. He did not deter his gaze, holding his arms out slightly. Her lower lip trembled, her brow furrowed, and she plummeted into his chest, holding onto his shirt for what little bit of life she could contain in her limp, useless body.

Natalia shuddered. That was the first time she realized that perhaps in this world, Prussia would be her only savior from Hell. She turned over, seeing the bony, slender back of the albino man, her fingers trailing over an old scar he had received from war. It wasn't delicate nor tender any longer, but if pressed against too hard, it still caused him pain. The girl gave a weak smile at the gentleness in which she found herself capable of having towards this man, even though before they had lived together, she loathed his entire being. She had loathed everything about him, and she could not understand why she had. He had saved her from causing her own demise- Even though there were darker secrets she held in her chest, she felt safe within this bed that held their dying bodies. As she traced the ridges of the tattered flesh, the albino rolled over, catching her fingers between his own. Their eyes met for only a moment, before he closed his, his hand still clinging to her skeleton fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

Natalia was fully aware that loneliness was, possibly, one of the most abundant things she's felt in her life. She found it rather entertaining that she was "White Russia," yet had the darkest mindset of all those in his grasp. The draw she felt towards the forbidden German was nearly scraping all but the back of her mind, and the woman could hardly stand to breathe in this house, where she could not take his hand in hers and find happiness. Even if it were in death, the simple act of touching was not allowed. She wondered if her brother could see the way her body longed for that Prussian's, and the way when he sat next to her, her skin itched for the opportunity to brush her leg against his, even if it meant a glare from Ivan. And when Ivan was gone, there was nothing but her own fear that kept her from looking him in the eyes and screaming to him that she was frightened of being alive.

She was terrified, for living meant that she could not be by his side in all the ways her frail and fragile being desired.

Natalia knew of only one way to take away the emotional pain. As much as she would let her family believe that the physical was hurting her, she'd grown accustomed to the frequent bruising and possible broken blood vessels, which came from too much spanking- Ivan treated her as if she were five- with his belt. It went hand in hand with her knife fetish. She knew it was something unforgivable, her strange attraction to the blades, but it was what created her dabble in knife play. She didn't need to be hurt; just to have the sharp edge laying against her skin would ease her mind. But on other nights, when she wanted to scream and cry, she found it easier to drive the blade so far into her skin that she couldn't stay awake. The blood was warm on her flesh, and it gave her a sense of pride in her ability to take pain in ways her own sister and brother would scream over. It was probably because whenever she fought, she was always told to grit her teeth and move on. It was just what her brother had begun to tell her after his battles with the Mongols turned him into such a dark person.

He was mad, simply and horribly mad.

And she was terribly insane and depressed. It was a good mix in her mind. For some reason, he just couldn't fathom why.

Natalia had possibly gone through one of the worst days in her memories. Early in the morning, the sun rose late and she slept in lazily. She was sick of everything around her, even the blanket that was her only support in these past few days. Gilbert had managed to catch a cold, meaning he told her she couldn't come near him until he was better. Soon she began to become the bitter woman who she often pretended to be, but she only wished this creature she had turned into was a mask on her usually apathetic visage. The girl sneered at her brother, her sister, even her preciously ill Prussian, spat words of venomous loathing at them, and found her way up the stairs. Today had been no different, and she was sitting on her bed with that precious knife that she had received from Toris many years ago as a birthday gift. She never used it for killing, because even though he gave it to her, she treasured it. It was specifically crafted just for her, with large rifts and ridges to tear open the flesh and pull it if she were to stab rather than cut, and the handle was made from pure gold. And on her bed, in broad daylight, she ripped off her dress, ignoring the fact that she would have to sew it together once again afterwards, and put on her summer dress from Poland. It was violet, with a bunch at the waist and white lace on the hemming. There was a bow on the square-cut neckline, and it was fashionably childish for someone her age, but she didn't care. Curling under her old blanket, she fished around under her mattress for the blade. Once her long, slender fingers scratched the handle, she pulled it out. With a sigh of irritation, she slashed at her arm, biting her lip as tears sprang to her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. Her skin was tearing.

Her heart was tearing.

Her life was torn.

_This is the best feeling of all. Pain is life. Life is still in me. I'm still alive. I'm still here. I still feel pain. I still cry. I still bleed. I may heal physically, but I still fucking bleed. _

It's not that she really needed it. She could stop any time she wanted. That's what she told herself. That's what she told Hungary. And Hungary had honestly believed that she'd stopped. And to Natalia, Elizaveta was probably one of the most gullible persons she'd ever met. There was hardly any other reason their friendship could work. She didn't want to hurt her, but she had to lie. There was no other way to tell the poor girl she had to practically commit a human suicide to find peace within her home. Natalia looked down at the gashes on her arms, her body shaking so much that she had to focus on keeping her hold on the knife in her hand. For some reason, she'd never done it this much. Yet all she wanted, right now, more than anything, was for more.

So she did it even more.

And she thrust the blade into the wall, she threw the chair aside, she screamed curses at the people who she knew.

"I loathe you, Ivan!"

"You're fucking _useless_ Katyusha!"

"I despise everything _about you,_ Toris!"

"_Why haven't you come for me, Hilbiert?_"

"I hate this world! I hate this life! I fucking hate everything!"

She thrashed her arms aside, ripping the photos from her walls and the blankets from her bed, her voice ringing through the horrified ears of those who could hear, of those who she had loved or cared about. She ran a bloody hand through her hair, the liquid dripping from her wrist to her face, her tongue flicking out to lick it from her lips. She fell to her knees, clasping her chest, screaming incoherent words to Heaven. She couldn't feel anything anymore. She couldn't see anything but the blurs of her secrets in front of her face. Her body racked uncontrollably with her sobs, her pleas for help, and yet no one came for her.

She felt utterly and horribly alone, and wished that she'd finally cease to exist. She wanted so much to be free from this place.

She just wanted to be_ normal._


	4. Chapter 4

He couldn't put his finger on it.

There was just something so off about Natalia at times it began to worry him. Almost whenever she was around Ivan, she was his precious, obeying and feared little sister. Yet other times, she held this aura that almost made everyone in the house want to go away. She could be terrifying, no doubt, but this was _different_. She wasn't herself in this house. She wasn't Gilbert's Natalia, or the Soviet's Belarus.

What had happened to her?

He never really got a chance to see her anymore. Only at night, and she seemed nearly incapable of moving another centimeter once she was in the bed, half the time he had to cover her. It didn't bother him too much that they didn't talk at all, but sometimes he just wanted to grab her face and force her to scream at him. If she even said she hated him it would set his withering soul at ease. He knew she wouldn't say it to him, at least as long as he was living with her and she was still sneaking into his room at night when everyone else was asleep. It frustrated him, it truly did that she was never around anymore. She was the only person who could get away with not doing her chores, or eating, or following orders. Ivan had to have known something was wrong for him to do that. He did not speak of her nor did he ask for her or about her, and sometimes it simply made Gilbert want to hurt him. What was wrong with her, where was she? Was she okay? Did she need him? Was there anything he could do for her?

Why did it suddenly matter to him what happened to this one female? Oh, of course he knew the answer. He'd gone through the same thing with that Hungarian. There was no way in Hell he would ever openly admit going through it again with Natalia, but internally, he'd known from the first time he thought about kissing her. Sometimes, he'd catch himself watching her as she spoke. He had a bit of a habit he'd made out of focusing on her lips when she spoke, especially when she yelled or screamed or cried. At one point, he noticed, she would bite the left corner of her bottom lip, before jumping up and yelling at someone. When she was going to cry, she'd spend a few minutes licking her top lip, before marching up the stairs to her bedroom. These were the things he'd come to really focus on in his life in this home. Natalia. Natalia's actions. Her habits. Her mannerisms. Anything related to Natalia, he was going to store inside his head to think about and contemplate. She was like a puzzle cube, just waiting to be solved by the right genius. Gilbert very much so wanted to be the first person to lay his hands on that precious puzzle, to twist her about and turn her, to turn her inside out and break her apart, to rebuild her into a perfectly solved being and treat her as the prize she really was. No matter what she did or said, it managed to draw him in, to throw him into some unrealistic world where the never ending snow slowed, just for them, like it was hardly falling at all. Was it really the same kind of love he'd felt for Elizaveta? Could the love he had once felt for her even been compared to this new sensation that caught his entire being in a trap?

Gilbert looked inside the house, carrying bags of groceries in from the old, pale car that Estonia owned. No one was home. "Where's everyone at, Eduard?" He called over his shoulder, walking into the kitchen cautiously as he looked around for any sign of life.

"Probably out for dinner. Ivan can randomly get in these moods to treat everyone. Last time he did you were asleep." Gilbert gave a slow nod of his head, before sitting the bags down and taking out cans to put in the pantry.

"I thought everyone was out with Ivan."

Gilbert turned around, catching the pale skin and silver hair before the violet blue eyes. As she stood in the doorway, she stared at Eduard, who nervously gave a wave of hello and fixed his glasses. "W-well Gilbert and I had to do grocery shopping and left before he did. "

"So he's with sestra and Toris and Ravis?"

"Y-yes, Natalia."

Natalia looked at them for only a moment longer before she turned on her heel. Gilbert raised his head and looked at Eduard, respectfully the nation of Estonia, and then sat the cans on the table. "Hey, finish this for me, Ed." He mumbled as he jogged after Belarus. It always amazed him at how she appeared and then vanished like a ghost, her scent the only thing that proved she'd even been there from the start. If it weren't for her smell and the coldness of her skin when she caressed his arms, he'd be certain she could have very well been a ghost that only came into his life to torture him. But she was real, and she wasn't too far ahead as to not hear his footsteps creaking on the boards behind her. Gilbert entangled his fingers in her hair, following her quietly as she walked around her room carelessly. It became obvious to him that she didn't have any sort of goal in mind when she was walking around, aside from perhaps the chance to go downstairs and sneak some food while Ivan was away. She sat on her bed, causing a still entangled Prussian to follow suit.

"Hilbiert."

"Yeah, Nat?"

"Would you brush my hair?"

Yes, the question was a bit odd, but it was something that Katyusha began doing when Natalia was young and started to grow her hair out. Over the years, Belarus noticed that the people that Ivan seemed most interested in had longer hair. So she decided she would have the longest hair she could manage, just for Ivan's pleasure. Gilbert cradled her to his chest as she held an old book in her hand (_Lolita _by Vladimir Nabokov) and turned the pages. He hummed something she hadn't heard in many years, the old song sung by Anastasia's grandmother. As he hummed, she read, before her snowflake eyelashes fluttered closed in the contented peace that Gilbert's presence offered her. Gilbert jolted as he saw Ivan standing in the door way of Natalia's room, staring at them in shock. Katyusha passed by, and as she looked over Ivan's shoulder she let out a squeal of excitement.

"Vanya, leave them be. Natalia is obviously very tired."

"B-but she is with him, and sh-"

"Come now, brother!"

As she pulled him away from the room, she slammed the door shut. Natalia opened her eyes and jolted from her previous position before looking around the room.

"Ukraine shut the door. They're home and Ivan looked ready to scream…" He mumbled to her as she wiped away the sleep form her eyes. She stared at him. He stared at her. Her hair was hanging in front of her face, her eyes were dulled with tiredness and she was dazed from slumber. She gave a short nod of her head before looking around the room, her mind in a buzz after her sleeping.

"Hilbiert."

"Yeah, Nat?"

She leaned in to his chest, pressing her lips against his in a subtle and soft caress, before breaking away and curling into a ball against his body. "I don't care what Ivan thinks. Stay in my room for the rest of the night. It's too cold without you in here…"


	5. Chapter 5

They weren't in a relationship. Natalia wasn't going to kiss him again. She did it out of confusion and sleepiness. That's what happened. Or at least, what Gilbert told himself anyways. Nothing had changed between them since that day, but Natalia had begun to come downstairs and be around the Soviets more often. It was almost as if one small trivial kiss had fixed her problems. Could it really have been so simple? If he had known he would have done it sooner, no doubt, and acted on his lustful, loving, desiring mind and pulled her into his frail, weak, useless arms and spent days kissing her chapped and split lips, perhaps until they died of starvation, no nourishment coming from feeding upon one another's being. This couldn't happen though, because Gilbert was a coward. He cursed himself every day and night. A coward. He was fearful that if he made another move towards her, she would reject him with either vulgar words or a violent shanking.

Natalia was sitting on the stairs, her blonde hair cascading down her back in loosely woven braid that Katyusha was tying. Natalia's hands busied themselves with knitting a scarf of black thread while her feet were exposed to the frozen wooden floor. Katyusha heaved a heavy sigh, and Natalia could feel the action as her sister's chest pressed on her neck. "Is something wrong, sestra?" She puzzled, not missing one Knit one or pearl two.

"I just wish I knew what went on in your brain, little one."

"And what brought this?"

"You know he's been getting weaker."

"Katyusha."

"And it seems like he's only strong enough to smile when you're around."

"Sestra."

"I don't know why you're one day in his arms and then the next, it's like nothing ever happened. What's wrong, do you not love him, my little s-"

"Yekaterina!" The name echoed through the house, and all things that had been moving ceased the useless action. None of the mice were running under the floors, none of the countries were breathing in their rooms, and not even Ivan was drinking from his bottle of vodka now. Ukraine stared at the back of her little sister's head, while Belarus refused to even breathe as the moments dragged on and threatened to become minutes of pure silence. "Natasha…"

"Niama!" She screamed, trying to jump from the stairs as her sister's arms wrapped around her neck. The old nickname used for Natalia was silently outlawed by the girl when she was handed over to Lithuania many centuries ago. It was something that brought unwelcomed bitterness into her chest and it forced the creation and voicing of words she never really meant to say to her brother or sister. But now that she was unable to move thanks to the grasp of her on-edge sister, she had to bite her tongue.

"I can't love a man who is going to disappear. I don't want to be hurt after he's gone. Are you happy now that I've answered your question?" She bit her lip in annoyance, her fingers curling into bundles of cotton as she gripped at her dress. If Gilbert were to die, she'd have to give a part of herself with the corpse. She wouldn't be the same after he was gone, she knew that much, but she didn't want to take a step further into the abyss than she already had. And if not being able to love him was what she could do to save herself for her people, she would do so.

"I just wish you'd finally be happy." Was the reply, which ended any conversation the siblings were to have for the night, as Katyusha stood and slunk away to her bedroom.

It was probably a little late for Belarus to wake up on time. She didn't realize how much she'd have regretted not being awake on time that morning, the night she did not need to sleep in Gilbert's room. It was not as if there was any ominous omen the night before, or when she lied to Katyusha about feeling ill. She just didn't want to spend the day down with the other Soviet nations, and preferred the idea of sleeping in late. She woke up when the sunlight poured in from her window, the white curtains giving no protection from the cursed light frequencies given off from the sun. It was past noon when she awoke for a second time, and she lazily climbed out of the bed. Her feet froze when they touched the chilled wooden floor, and she trudged over to her vanity stand. Sitting down, she brushed through the silver blonde locks, her eyes staring holes into the reflection in her cracked mirror. Her delicate fingers were wrapped gently around the handle of her silver brush, which reflected the light of the sun into her eyes. She sat the brush down, and stood. She had thought about not changing out of her nightgown at all, but she had a second thought: Maybe she _should_ say something to Gilbert about her feelings. And if she did… she wanted to look good. She slipped on an old spring dress, the sleeves coming off her shoulders and having white lace at the trim. It was a light blue, and flit about her thighs gently and innocently. There were three buttons up to the neckline and a white belt on the waist. She put in her hair a white bow, and stared at herself in the mirror. She'd never worn this dress. As her feet slipped from stair to stair, her mind ignored the continuous questioning as to why there was no noise in the entire house. The cars were parked on the road, and even an extra one, too. In fact, it didn't make sense why there was no sound. Even though the thought rose pointless times as she took her time, she pushed back her premonition of a dark reality. Only when she saw that a certain German was standing in the doorway to her kitchen did she realize all was not well in her home. She walked past him, fright in her shaking eyes as if she were a child in a ruined family, unknowing of truth and terrified to know. She looked to her older sister, whose grim eyes stared down at the pure white tiled kitchen floors, and then to her older brother, whose fingers were bloody from fixing his arm from something. Lithuania refused to eye her, and Eduard sat with his hands over his eyes. Ravis was not present.

"Where is Hilbiert?" She mustered, her voice faltering and aquiver in panic and anxious for good news. Her head shot towards the German, who looked at her with pain in his sky blue eyes. She didn't particularly care for him- No, she rather despised his entire being and country for how many of her people he murdered.

"Prussia was officially dissolved… Gone, all of it. He disappeared…" As if nothing could have hurt these that surrounded her even more than his death, each one a felt a newly revived pain when one tear escaped the girl's eyes, before fluttering snow-flake lashes dissolved it and she gained the strength to leave. Natalia didn't want to hide form them, truly, but she wanted to grieve her own loss in silence. Gilbert wouldn't have wanted her to cry, anyways.

Thanks for all the reviews, really! :D This IS a sad chapter, but coming after is the epilogue, and I hope you guys stick around for one last thing. If you liked this, check out some of my other reads, okay? Thank you all very much!


	6. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

Since the last time she had seen him, Natalia wasn't the same. She had gone to his funeral and was given forgiveness for having pushed him away and ignoring his condition by Gilbert's brother. But even then it didn't feel right to her. If she could have saved him in any way, she would have: she never expected his life to end. She expected him to go back to Germany and forget about her. After his death, she became even more apathetic towards life than she had previously been. Some people didn't think she even felt apathy: They called her a doll. She did not talk nor visit other nations. She wore the same dress every day. She never changed her expression. She was lifeless.

Belarus had since then become known as the country with the "Last Dictatorship." Although she didn't approve of the title, and it had ruined her and Alfred's already rocky relationship, she adored her president. She could sit back and remember the times in which she shared something of a ghost of herself with America, who tried a bit too hard to make her herself again. Although he was her only shell, he wasn't Gilbert. He could be taller than Gilbert, he could be stronger, he could be alive, he could be better for her, but he was not the Prussian. He could never manage to even hope to take her from such a love that too quickly dissolved into nothingness. He tried to save her, though, and at the time she really thought he could. But when he and his president began to attack the only man who wanted to save her form a death like Prussia's, things fell apart. She never regretted leaving him, but rather the manner in which she left and the manner their relationship has been kept in. They give one another enough slander to make up for a thousand presidential debates, and he takes revenge on her by using his status a super power to undermine her opinions. To say the least, the girl becomes aggressively angry with him, and he becomes terrified and annoyed with her: Either way, blame could not be put on the country but their political leaders, and the two had to personally fight their battles. The girl though she had gone through enough pain at the loss of her only lover, but obviously the boy had thought otherwise. Since then, they never spoke to each other.

She had stopped going outside much, and soon she was called the recluse of the Europeans. Not only was her country cut off from most of the outside world, but she had followed in its footsteps and stopped leaving her home. Although it concerned her family and Lithuania, she ignored their calls, their e-mails, and even when they would go to her house and try to speak with her. It soon became hopeless that she would show her face again, or that she could return to her normal self. The Belarusian woman simply couldn't manage to be her normal, overbearingly annoying personality any longer.

Until one day, many years after his death.

She went to her closet to find something to wear around the house, even though she rarely left the place. When she opened it, she found all of her dresses were tattered, worn out from overuse, and she had only her old blue sundress to wear. The same one she wore on that day. She bit her lip and forced it on, grabbed her clasp purse and decided it was time for wardrobe shopping. As if by chance, today was a day full of sales inside the mall, making the search for fashionable clothes even more difficult than usual. Maybe it was how she blankly stared at the racks of shirts and the shelves of jeans that caused a certain sales associate to make their way over. The blonde hair and green eyes and obnoxiously happy grin made her wish she hadn't left the house.

"Like, Belarus, OMG what're you doing here?" He cooed, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in an awkwardly friendly hug. She heaved a heavy sigh, and looked at the racks. "This so the only dress I have that's in good condition… I need to shop for new things but I have no idea what would look right." And, as if she had confessed her undying love to him, Feliks' face lit up with the power for a thousand stars. He grabbed her arms and threw her around, shoveling clothes and shoes into her arms. She hadn't made a choice on what she wanted, and she was confused by his color choices since she only wore blue, but he didn't mind at all. When they went into the changing stall together, he had to dress her in most of it.

"Nat, this one is super you! Lemme put it on you, OMG." He squealed with enthusiasm, buttoning the neck of the short sleeved loose hanging shirt. It had a high neck on it with a rounded white neckline, and it was creamy beige. She had on a tight black mini skirt with white pumps. She heard Feliks gasp in awe, but she didn't really know how she felt about the clothing.

_Is this really in fashion?_ She asked herself, staring in the mirror as Feliks supplied her with a fresh new outfit that clung to her body. The dress was a pale mint green with lace overtop, a brown belt around her abdomen and brown booties on her feet. She admitted to liking this one a bit and Feliks clapped with joy. "You're like, so old fashioned Nat! It's super cute on you though!"

Although it was a bit annoying to deal with him in the store, Feliks insisted on getting off his shift early and spending the day with her. She knew he was taking advantage of her need for new clothes to get her to stay out from her house longer than usual, but she couldn't complain: It almost felt nice to be spending time with someone. They spent the day shopping for clothes, and talking about world meetings and other countries. The topic of America was even brought up. It quickly ended, though, when she made a snide remark about his personality. They were sitting across from one another in the food court. She was eating some sort of cheap Chinese food and he had pizza. "So like, Nat, where have you been? Everyone's asking about you all the time, you know."

"It doesn't matter. I'm just happier in my home than at these useless world meetings." She supplied, taking a bite of lo Mein noodles. It wasn't like she was lying, anyways. She really felt that the world meetings were useless, since nothing was ever accomplished. But at least she would have had some sort of interaction with the others, right? Well, not like she really wanted to. As her mind was focused on the reasons behind her sudden disappearance, she hadn't really given Poland much attention until she saw him waving and calling someone over to their table. She didn't really care to look up, but rather she ducked her head in an attempt to hide her face.

"Kesesesese~ Awe, what's wrong Natalia? Don't like me anymore?" The melodiously horrible sound echoed through her being before her eyes lifted to face him. The violet-blue orbs held the same sort of innocence and pain that they had when the two beings lived together many decades before. "How are you alive, Hibliert?" She breathed, her chest tightening in hopes that the Gods were not playing a painful trick on her, letting her hallucinate his appearance when she was finally becoming normal for only a day. But when he sat next to her and put his arm around her thinned shoulders, he grimaced. "Have you not been eating?" He asked, grabbing her face between her hands and forcing her to look at him. She pulled her face away from him, covering her eyes with a hand. "You never told me how you're alive, Hilbiert.." She whispered, and he gave her a cocky, signature smirk she'd not seen for many years. "ever heard of the micro-nation New Prussia?"


End file.
